


Sponsered by: SOLDIER

by ashatasha



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Commercials, Crossdressing, Gen, Not Beta Read, and by hilarious i mean great yet terrible, and least not yet? someone help, shinra and its hilarious ideas, well eventual crossdressing anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashatasha/pseuds/ashatasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gets the idea that hey, if people were making money off unofficial Sephiroth toys and the like, ShinRa could make money off <i>official</i> Sephiroth toys.  And of course, the like.</p><p>Obviously a calendar is needed.  Action figures are a must.  And while they're at it, they might as well get some of those troopers too, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sponsered by: SOLDIER

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 fucked up so here i am again? originally i wrote the note before even writing the fic, a+ planning skills @me

"Absolutely not," Sephiroth said immediately, and the look Lazard gave him was deadpan and amused in equal parts.

"It would bring up the budget for SOLDIER, and besides, the public wants some merchandise to drool on.  Rhapsodos already agreed, you know."  Which was probably, entirely true.  Genesis had been in a gleeful mood all week, even though he refused to tell Sephiroth and Angeal why.  It was driving them crazy, not knowing what their friend was up to.

Sephiroth almost regretted knowing, now.

From the look on Angeal's face, so did he.  "Merchandise is alright, but does it have to be a swimsuit calendar?  Doesn't the Silver Elite have some plush dolls?  We could always go for that."

"And that's another product that's going to be on the market, as soon as someone from Urban Development comes over to discuss the specifications.  Don't be so stubborn, it's not like we're only going to be focusing on the First Classes.  There's been demand for some of Heidegger's boys too," Lazard drawled.  Without any further insistence on his part, he pushed forward some papers for each: details on this farce of a 'mission'.  Heidegger was probably laughing himself silly when he was filing the paperwork.

"I don't agree to it.  Our budget is certainly high enough, if it could only be raised by  _toys_  instead of better money management," Sephiroth said flatly.  He made to exit, rolled his eyes at Angeal's poorly hidden sigh, and turned back to grab a stack.  "I'll be overseeing some Thirds in training now.  Good day."

He ignored the sound of laughter from behind the closed door.  End of story.

 

 

Except apparently not.

"See, this isn't so bad, right?" Genesis purred, and Sephiroth barely twitched a frown at him before the photographer was pitching yet another fit.  Something about smirks and appeal and mystery.  Honestly, at this point he was sure even Angeal was tuning the man out.  He did make sure to revert his expression back to something smoother and more arrogant, though.

Angeal snorted, the little shake of his head brushing against Sephiroth's palm.  "My arm aches and my hair is going to fall out.  If this is your definition of 'not so bad', I don't want to see what 'bad' actually is like."  Their position was halfway comfortable and halfway not.  It was alright, at least relative to the previous few.  Sephiroth was laying on his side, propped up on an arm and twisted to cup Angeal's face, who was straddling him.  Genesis was tangled slightly under Sephiroth, head tilted elegantly into Sephiroth's throat and arm looped around to tug at Angeal's hair, all with his effortless showman's smile.

This was still the first photoshoot.  He was only going to do three, he had reluctantly promised Lazard, and there was so much regret in even that much.  Another minute of Genesis's stupid, smug, supercilious smirk and Sephiroth was going to stab him with Masamune.  If not that, maybe the photographer's cheekbones.  They were certainly sharp enough.

"Hey, the troopers are here for their shot!" someone called out.

"The hell?!  Who the fuck set up these schedules?"

"WE BETTER BE PAID FOR THIS BS THROUGH THE NOSE YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Alright— _fuck kid don't trip on that cord!—_ we've got enough pictures for this first one!  Someone get a bucket!"

Ah, chaos.  Maybe he could use it to take off, avoid Genesis for about a week and watch the redhead steam.  The legs tightening around him clearly disagreed with that plan.  All four of them, to boot.  Angeal's eyebrow was a preemptive reminder. 

Genesis let go of Angeal's hair to pat Sephiroth's cheek.  "Don't take off without us, _Gen_ eral," the man crooned with too much glee to be healthy.  The three men only got up after the photographer came over to talk.

"You're scheduled again tomorrow, 1600 sharp.  And if that damn Winston asks about today, tell him I disown him and that I'm never doing him a favor again," the photographer said sharply.  Sephiroth half-remembered his profile: Thorsten Faramir, age 49, cousin to the president.  Helped in marketing once every few years, if the rumors were accurate, and prickly unless in direct line of sight to President Shinra.  Then it was just full-blown assholery.

Faramir was still talking.  "You're arranged to get your dimensions or whatever taken for the actions figures tomorrow, too.   _Hopefully_ , we don't get another scheduling error."

Sephiroth stifled his sigh.  What a pain.

 

 

There was a surprisingly ridiculous amount of paperwork needed to create merchandise.  Even Angeal's pup, who had come over to play student, was buried in it as First- and Second- Classes alike joined up in the common to help each other finish consent forms, look over dimensions, sign contracts.  Some of the more attractive Third Classes, too.  The lucky ones were all away on missions.

"My nose doesn't look like that at all!" Genesis muttered angrily.  A flick of his pen denied the action figure.  Serves him right, thought Sephiroth.  He was still bitter over being dragged into the whole mess.

"At least your plushy looks cute," Angeal pointed out, mild as milk. _His_ doll looked like a disaster, sitting in the box full of plushies and other proto-merch.  Somewhere, a god was laughing at them all.

(Zack had the cutest plushy so far.  While Sephiroth's was very manly, very intimidating for a lump of cotton, Zack's was fluffy and cheerful.  He was one of the few that even got a plushy at all.  Most of the other SOLDIERs were stuck with calendar photos; at least half of the First Classes had action figures instead as well.  Most likely because Zack was a known figure: bouncy, sweet, he was quite popular with the public.)

A Second Class—Kunsel, good with materia and quick on his feet—chuckled.  "Not as cute as this one, though," he whispered conspiratorially to Zack.  He was holding up a smaller plush, with a tiny helmet made from starched cloth.  Its yellow spikes looked especially soft as the helmet fitted over its face.

"Aww," Zack cooed.  "He looks like a chocobo!  Angeal, hey, Angeal!  Look!"  His cry drew some attention and even more coos from Sephiroth's supposedly hardened, tough-as-nails SOILDERs.  To be fair, the doll was rather adorable.

Angeal fondly indulged his student, but pointed out, "Looks like its from the infantry line.  What's it doing here?"

"Maybe a mix up?" someone suggested.  The doll was dressed in the infantry uniform, wrapped neatly in a green tea scarf.  Kunsel dug around the box of plushies to dig out the name cards.

"The generals, L. Smith, Z. Fair, M. Castor, who the hell organized these... here!  C. Strife!" Kunsel announced, pointing to an unfamiliar name.  "Any C. Strife here?"  Silence met his question.

"Well, I suppose we can hand it over to a secretary to deliver it," Sephiroth started, but Zack shot to his feet, eager to move.

"No worries!  I'll go ask around for a, uh, C. Strife, and deliver it to him."  He snatched the doll out of Kunsel's hands and darted away.  "I'll come and finish the paperwork later, bye!"  And Hurricane Zack passed.

A beat of the stillness left behind a natural disaster.

"The wandering soul knows no rest," Genesis quoted dryly.  "Good riddance, I say.  His barking was beginning to annoy me."  His pen jabbed at the dimension forms in time to the SOLDIERs' laughter.

"Who knows, maybe he'll bark at C. Strife instead," Sephiroth returned, with the slightest tilt to his lips.  "Get to work, men.  The faster this is done the faster we can get this over with."  Distraction gone, everyone slowly went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm i wonder who this c. strife could be. much mystery. such confusion.


End file.
